Constellations
by nirvana405
Summary: A series of one-shots dedicated to Shoker, some interconnected and others stand alone, told mostly from Joker's POV. T for language later on. My first fanfic, so comments are welcomed. TEMPORARILY ON HIATUS. Sorry, everyone.
1. The One With All the Flashbacks

The universe has this unspoken law that people don't exist if they're all alone. I was always alone in school because no one wanted to associate with the sickly crippled kid. According to the unspoken universal law, I didn't exist. The other students ignored me, and my instructors ignored me, and the only people who ever paid any attention to me were my parents and my doctors. And Felicia.

I was in the Alliance Academy's library, using one of the student-access extranet terminals to look up specs on a flight simulator the Alliance just started using in their flight school, when someone, a girl, walked up to me. A long black ponytail, bright blue eyes, pale skin and full red lips, all stuck on the head attached to a tiny, curvy little body wrapped in an Academy uniform. She was like something out of my fantasies and my worst nightmares all at once.

"This term taken?" she asked, pointing at the terminal next to me. I stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out if she was talking to me on a dare or if she was just yanking me around.

"Uh, um," I stuttered. _Brilliant, Jeff_, I thought, _stuttering like an idiot's a great way to make a good first impression. Make it better. __**Now**_**.** "No. Go ahead."

She smiled and sat down. I tried to go back to reading up on the flight sim, but suddenly it was completely uninteresting. I kept stealing glances at her out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out why she had bothered to come to the most remote corner of the library, where I'd never been disturbed or joined by anyone before. She was running her hands over the holodeck, typing so quickly it didn't look like she was typing at all. After a few minutes I was able to get back into the flight sim article I'd found.

"Hey," she said after a while. It took me a minute to realize she was talking to me. "So, you're in Pavlov's 1100 comp sci class, right? I think I saw you there today."

"Yeah."

"I just transferred in," she explained. "I was in Smith's class, but when I signed up for basic they had to switch around my schedule. Since I'm new, you mind if I borrow your notes so I can catch up? Pavlov told me to ask Jeff Moreau for his, but I've been looking for him since my transfer and I can't find him anywhere. I'm starting to think he's mythical or something, like he doesn't come out except for during that one class."

"I'm Jeff Moreau," I said. My well-honed cynicism was still in the honing stage at that point, so I settled for stating the obvious. Well, obvious to me, anyway.

"So you do exist!" she said, giving me a glowing smile and offering her hand to me. "Nice to meet you, Jeff. I'm Felicia, Felicia Shepard."

_***#*#*#***_

It's late. I was almost dozing off as I let my mind wander back to my Academy days, back before flight school. I yawn and rub my eyes, debating whether or not I should go and get a fresh cup of coffee, when I hear the elevator door open. A set of light footsteps with hard-soled shoes walks through the CIC and up the bridge to the cockpit, bringing with them the smells of sugary, candy-like perfume and fresh coffee. Felicia never changes.

"You read my mind, Commander," I say, swiveling my seat to face her. "I was just thinking about going and getting a cup."

She scoffs. "What makes you think this cup is for you, flyboy?" She hands me a blue mug anyway, a playful smile on her lips.

"Thanks." I take the mug and sip it carefully. Ah, cream and sugar, just how I like it. "I was thinking about the Academy. You remember Pavlov?"

She smiles. "How could I forget Irena Pavlov? She's the one who started the Joker thing. God, what do you think happened to her? She was ancient then, and that was almost ten years ago."

"She's probably still telling her 21st century stories about iPads and the internet," I say. "You remember her lecture on hybrid cars?"

"The one that went on for three days and put us behind the other classes? Yeah," she says, smiling. Without any lipstick on, I can see the scar on her lip. Cerberus left that one behind, because Felicia's always been self-conscious about it and they didn't want to risk ruining her personality by removing it.

_***#*#*#***_

"How'd you get that, anyway? That scar on your lip?"

"What, this?" She asked, touching it. She brushed her fingertips over it for a second, almost unconsciously. "It's stupid, really. I got it Christmases ago, y'know, when I was visiting my family on Earth. My grandma's dog was so excited to see me he crashed into me and sent me flying face-first into the corner of a coffee table. I should've been pissed, but I loved that dog."

"Uh huh, sure" I said disbelievingly. It sounded like a perfectly good story, or at least a well-executed lie, retold a thousand times and rehearsed a thousand more. "I bet that's what you tell everyone. I bet it was something really stupid, embarrassing, too."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

I leaned in close to her, so she could hear me whisper over the din of the Academy mess hall. "I bet you were kissing a turian. No, wait, better yet: a _vorcha_."

"I can't believe he told you! That bastard," she said in mock offense, but without any real humor. "Fine, you've earned the right to really know. I haven't told anyone, not even my parents know what really happened. I told them I got hurt playing Soldiers and Aliens with the other kids."

She sighed. She was different from the other girls at the Academy, from all the other girls I'd ever known. She broke Moreau's Law not just that one time, but hundreds of other times after that. She sat with me at lunch, helped me with my things and held doors open for me and stuff. You know what? 'm man enough to admit that I totally had a crush on her.

She leaned across the table, closer to me than anyone but my parents and my doctors had ever been. I could smell her candy perfume, count all seventeen freckles on her nose, see little flecks of violet in her blue eyes, and of course, her scar.

"When I was twelve, I sneaked into the repair hangar of one of the ships my mother was serving on," she said quietly. "I had watched this old vid, and it hade something called a motorcycle in it. It was the coolest thing. Have you ever seen one, Jeff?" I told her I had, which was a lie. "I was always taking stuff apart and putting them back together, so I wanted to try building a motorcycle out of scrap from a wrecked Grizzly and spare parts from a Mako. I had no idea what I was doing, but the finished product looked right, so I gave it a go." She frowned and shook her head. "It didn't go well. I couldn't control it, because they have that manual steering mechanism thing, so I ended up crashing into the scrapped Grizzly face first. The motorcycle broke apart, and one of the handle things snapped off and hit me in the face, just for good karmic measure. I needed seven stitches in my lip and my front teeth repaired. Like I said: stupid, right?"

Me being me, I was surprised that she hadn't broken her whole face, so I stared at her in awe. She licked her lips, waiting for a reaction.

"That's not stupid," I told her. She looked surprised. "That's awesome."

She blushed. Actually, really blushed. I was kind of horrified but very satisfied by being able to get that kind of reaction from her. "You think so?"

"You built hundred-year old technology, crashed it into a tank, and lived to tell the tale," I told her. I never admitted it to her, but I thought it was kind of sexy. It's been one of my staple fantasies for going on ten years. "That's probably the coolest thing I've ever heard anyone our age do. No wonder you're up for N7 training."

"I dunno," she said. "I'm not sure if I'm cut out for N7. I mean, I'm an engineer, not a soldier. I'd rather hide behind a crate and send drones out after the bad guys than run at them guns blazing."

"You must have a hell of a drone if it's getting you looked at for N7, Felicia."

"I guess you're right," she sighed. She brushed her hair behind her ear. It was one of the only times I'd seen her without her customary foot-long ponytail. "Thanks, Jeff. You're a good friend."

She reached out and patted my shoulder. I tensed up at her touch, but she didn't notice. She got up and took both of our empty lunch trays to a recycling bin. Under the bright, sterile lights of the Academy's mess hall, I could see that her hair isn't actually black, but more of a black-coffee brown. It was that moment that I decided I wanted to be a caffeine addict.

"C'mon," she said, coming back to our table for our bags. "We're going to be late for Pavlov's class. We don't want to miss a moment of that, now do we?"

She said I was her friend, and a good one, too. I didn't know what to do with that, so I reached for my crutches and hobbled out of the mess beside her.

_***#*#*#***_

An older Felicia with a messy shag haircut appears right in front of me, one dark eyebrow arched. "Earth to FL Moreau."

"Jesus Christ, Felicia!" I jump so badly I almost spill the piping coffee all over myself.

"What?" she asks as she leans against the corner of my console, crossing her arms and ankles simultaneously. "You did it to yourself. I was trying to get your attention for five minutes." She smirks. "You were spacing out. No pun intended."

No, the pun was totally intended, and we both know it. She has a really terrible sense of humor sometimes. "What's so important that you have to interrupt my reminiscing?"

"Reminiscing?" Her face goes from amused to interested. "About what?"

"Nothing," I lie. She rolls her eyes, but lets it drop.

"Whatever. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I have a surprise for you,"but you have to let EDI take over for a few hours first, okay?"

"Why?"

"I'm not telling you until we get there," she says, stepping away from the flight console and disappearing behind my seat. "EDI, take the helm. Wake me when we're an hour out."

EDI's beach-ball-on-a-pedestal form appears next to me. "Of course, Shepard."

My mug vanishes from my hand. I look up, and find myself eye level with both coffee mugs and Felicia's chest. My mouth goes as dry as Rahkana's deserts.

"Log Jeff out for the next few hours, so he has no choice but go sleep," Felicia says, eyeing me knowingly. EDI complies silently, the console pinging quietly as it switches into auto-pilot. "I expect you to be suited up by 0800 tomorrow, okay?"

"Uh-huh," is all I can manage. Since when have overalls been sexy?

"I mean it."

"Uh-huh."

I'm sure she frowns, because she scoffs and disappears behind my seat without another word. I twist around to watch her, hot, bothered, and confused. Felicia's my best friend, was my first and only friend for a long time. I might've had a crush on her back at the Academy, but since the SR-1 she's been more like a sister to me. I've never actually been thankful for being an only child, but I am right now, because it would be weird (and creepy) if I checked out my sister the way I'm checking out Felicia.

"Stop looking at my ass, Jeff."

Yeah, I'm totally glad she's not my sister.


	2. The One Where Felicia Blows My Mind

"Good morning, sunshine."

Felicia doesn't even look up from her datapad, but she raises her red coffee mug in half-greeting. Her eyes are big and round, her thin eyebrows so high they disappear under her hair. I limp to the coffee pot and fix myself a cup before I join her at the counter.

"Did you know I'm sleeping with Garrus?" she asks. I inhale my coffee, choke on it, and spit some back into the mug and all over Gardner's immaculate counter, somehow managing to avoid my uniform. She takes the mug away from me and starts mopping up my mess with a dish rag.

"You-you're _what_?" I choke out.

"Garrus and I are lovers, apparently," she says, shrugging. "I had no idea we were so close. See, here I thought we were sparring with each other, but apparently that's some form of turian courtship."

"You know, Fel, I was joking when I said you got your scar from kissing a turian," is my brilliant response.

She raises one dark eyebrow so high it disappears under her hair. "You're an idiot."

"What?" I'm obviously missing something, because she returns to sipping her coffee and reading her datapad, completely ignoring me. "Seriously, what?"

"Nothing," she says. "I'm shocked speechless by the thickness of your skull in relation to that of your femur."

"Low blow. Leave my femur out of it; it's fragile."

She rolls her eyes. "Now you're a bigger idiot. Congratulations. Read this."

I take the datapad and read the title of the article (_Westerlund News Exclusive: __Commander __Shepard__ Romantically Entangled with Former C-Sec Officer!)_ and laugh. The rest of the article is written like a gossip magazine's expose of some illicit affair, making several jabs at the Normandy's multicultural crew and Cerberus affiliations, and a few at Felicia and Garrus's characters. In all honesty, I think it's hilarious. That whatsername al-Jilani lady must really hate Felicia.

"Huh," I say, handing the datapad back to her. "I was rooting for you to get together. What's it like, sleeping with the Archangel?"

She shushes me, waving her free hand in the direction of the forward battery. "I swear to god I'll break your glass ass if you say a word to him about this!"

"You realize that he probably already knows?"

"I don't care. I don't want you to say anything to him about it. Even joking, okay?"

I narrow my eyes at her. "Why? Is it true?"

"No, of course not," she scoffs, waving her hand dismissively. "I don't want you to say anything because it'll upset Tali. She has good aim with that shotgun of hers, and you can't run for shit. I'm not explaining that one to Chakwas or your mother. Period."

"Ooh, right." I guess Garrus and Tali have hit their first relationship bump, and I have a vague idea of what it might relate to. I'm not sure if I should be happy or worried for her. How would Tali _do_ anything with helmet on all the time? I cringe inwardly at the image I just made in my head. I really, really didn't need to think about _that_ before I've even had breakfast. Now I'm not hungry. Goddamn my imagination.

"So, are you wondering where we're going?" she asks.

"I wasn't even thinking about it, actually," I admit. "I take it you won't tell me until everyone else is up, right?"

"No, I'll tell you now if you really want me to," she sets her mug aside as she says it. She looks sad, tired, not at all like the Felicia Shepard I know. She licks her lips the way she does when she's nervous and looks at me, shifting so her head is resting on her knees and her eyes are locked and level with mine. "Alchera. We're going to Alchera."

I gape at her. We were scanning Alchera when the Collectors attacked us three years ago, back on the SR-1. No wonder she didn't want me to know last night; I wouldn't have been able to sleep if I'd known. I feel a lead weight settle in my gut that's so heavy it might crush me.

I want to go ashore with her. I want to see what's left of my baby. I _need _to see it.

I don't want to go ashore with her. I don't need to be reminded that I killed her and the SR-1. I don't need to see the wreckage of my ship. I don't _want _to.

The destruction of the SR-1 is glazed over, never really being addressed by anyone who was there. To Felicia, it was only months ago that the Collectors gunned us down, but to me, Dr. Chakwas, Garrus and Tali, it was a whole lifetime ago. It was a time I'd rather not remember. There were a lot of things said and left unsaid that I regret, and I don't want Felicia's insane intuition to pick up on any of that.

We're still staring at each other when Dr. Chakwas comes out of the crew quarters. "Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but isn't staring rude?"

"We were having a staring contest," Felicia says quietly. She knows I'm upset, but won't say anything in front of Chakwas. She sits up and pours herself a fresh cup of coffee.

"I'm sure you were," the doctor says. She's more of a mother hen than EDI sometimes.

We sit around in companionable silence, drinking our morning pick-me-ups and making small talk. Make that very small talk, because apparently I'm the only morning person of our little shore party, and I don't feel much like talking anymore.

Tali and Garrus ride up in the elevator together, both looking a bit blue (figuratively speaking, anyway) when they come into the mess. They're whispering to each other.

"I'll be fine," Tali murmurs. "I just need some antibiotics."

"Are you sure?" he asks. I think he's making the concerned turian face. Like I can really tell.

She puts a hand on his shoulder. "I appreciate your concern, but I really don't need it. I'll be fine. Please don't worry too much."

"If you say so, Tali," he says, resigned. I guess it's kind of… nice, to see them being all couple-y and whatever, but I can't help but frown. Tali's more fragile than I am; it doesn't seem fair that she's having sex and I'm not. I'm happy for her; really, because I like her and it's nice to see her so happy, but I'd be lying if I said anything about not wanting the same thing for myself.

**_*#*#*#*_**

"I can't believe him. What a dick," she seethed, ripping open the box for her model Verikkan more forcefully than necessary. "I told him how important it was for me to be ready for my N7 general engineering exam, and he decided to dump me because I wouldn't put out. Asshole." I was so mad at this guy, and I didn't even know his name. I didn't understand how he couldn't understand why her N7 exam was so important.

"You want me to go hunt him down and defend your honor?" I asked. She snorted. It was cute.

"Would if you could," she said. She looked up and smiled. "And I know you mean it. Thanks, Jeff."

I shrugged. By that point, I was fully invested in the fact that I liked her, and it took a huge amount of willpower to not let her know. As badly as I wanted to be more than her best friend, and as badly as I wanted her to like me back, I just as badly didn't want her to settle for me. And it would be settling, even if I didn't label it that. I'm resigned to forever be comfortable as Lord High Ruler of the Friend Zone.

I would come to accept the fact that most girls are sympathetic at first, treating me like a baby that needed constant care. Then I get annoyed by their "poor you" attitudes, and some of them decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth. Some, not many, keep trying, and by the time sex comes into the equation they can't deal with my condition, and then it's over. Still, it wasn't fun listening to her talk about her asshole boyfriend.

"You know," she said, setting the torn box aside. "I feel like I always do all the talking, and I really hate that you always get stuck listening to me complain about Kiernan. Tell me about you."

"Not much to talk about that you don't already know, Fel."

"Oh come on!" she said. "There's gotta be something. You have a girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, girlfriend."

"I don't have one." I wished I didn't tell her the truth, but it's always been really hard to lie to Felicia's face.

"What?" She looked and sounded genuinely surprised. "Why not?"

"Hell if I know," I told her. She frowned. "Seriously. I don't know. I guess most girls aren't into cripples. Maybe it's the leg braces. They aren't pretty."

"They aren't that bad," she said gently. "And if it's something stupid and superficial like that that keeps girls at a distance, they're idiots. I mean, you're a great guy, Jeff. You're absolutely brilliant, and you have a wicked sense of humor. And you're so sweet. You'll make a girl happy one day, you know?"

I remember feeling my face, neck, and ears got uncomfortably hot, but she didn't notice that I must've looked like a tomato.

"Maybe someday," I murmured.

"Definitely," she reassured. She put her hand on my arm, giving it a squeeze. She picked up the Verrikan model's box and held it out to me. "Now, you want to help me put this model together while we talk? I really want to see how it'll look in my display case."

**_*#*#*#*_**

Felicia tells them about Alchera. Even without being able to read their faces, Tali and Garrus look as nervous as I feel. Dr. Chakwas stares into her tea like it has some sort of revelation beneath its surface, her eyes a little glassy.

"I want you guys to come with me," Felicia says. She looks at her hands, wringing them nervously. "You don't have to come, but I don't want to go alone. I don't think I can. She was my home until a few months ago-I mean, at least it still feels like it to me, and it was your home, too." She glances from her hands to me and back to her hands. "I think we all have the right to go down there and pay our respects, say goodbye, all that."

"We are entering Alchera's orbit as we speak, Commander," EDI says, her disembodied voice makiing us all jump. She almost sounds sypathetic. "Alchera's surface temperature is currently negative-thirty degrees Celcius. I suggest wearing more than the usual underarmor bodysuits, and utilizing your armor's heating utility. It may also be prudent to remain planetside for as short a time as possible."

"Duly noted, EDI, thank you," Felicia says as she slides off the counter. "You all heard the lady. Suit up if you want to come with. We'll meet up at the airlock in fifteen."

Garrus heads off to the battery, where he has his makeshift quarters, to suit up in his new set of armor. Dr. Chakwas heads to the elevator to go up to the armory. Tali lingers behind with us.

"I don't think I can do it, Shepard," she half-whispers, her voice a little strangled. "I was there when... I don't think I can look at her wreckage. I just can't."

"It's fine, Tali," Felicia assures her. They hug. "It's okay. It's your choice."

I put my hand on Tali's shoulder. She looks at me, then looks at the floor, wringing her hands.

"I want to, but..."

"Don't worry about it, Tali," I tell her. "I'll bring you back a souvenir."

She nods. Since she won't come I figure I could at the very least I can bring a small something, like a bolt or a coupling, back to her. She stays behind as Felicia and I head to the elevator, her covered head bowed and her shoulders shaking. She sobs quietly as Felicia and I step into the elevator.

"Poor kid," I mutter.

"I know," Felicia says. "She's so young, and she keeps having to deal with all these huge things. I don't know how she stays so positive."

"Maybe it's a quarian thing?" I suggest. She shrugs. "No really, think about it. They spend their whole lives on those ships, living right on top of each other, without anywhere to go because most planets have this negative image of them. Like, most people think they're locusts. Maybe optimism is what gets them through everything."

She looks at me, a little smirk on her face. "Wow. That's pretty perceptive. Our Joker: the best helmsman in the whole damn galaxy, funny as hell, dashing to boot, and a wax-philosopher. You're the whole package, Jeff."

"I do great impressions, too. Ask me to do my Garrus for you some time."

"I'll remember that," she says, chuckling. "We couldn't do it without you, you know, our ornery bastard pilot with a glass ass."

"Funny," I say as sarcastically as I can. "You said it yourself that you can't do the hero thing without me at the helm. You're lucky to have me."

As the elevator door opens, she leans over and whispers in my ear, her breath hot on my skin, "I am."

She puts her hands behind her back and smiles, stepping out of the elevator and disappearing into the lab. I stand there for a second, dumbstruck and gaping after her like an idiot.


	3. The One On Alchera

******!%#$!%#%#^$*%(&*$!%#^#!#)&*%^#%#^$#&%*&)^#%^#%&$^#$%^%*%$!#!^*^&(*^#~#$^&*(^$#&#$($^&%!^$&%^*##!&*$^^&#!*^#~#$^%&^*#%!**

**Hey, everyone! Wow, so far the reception of **_**Constellations**_** is positive, which is something I'm incredibly grateful, surprised, and pleased about. In any case, I'm glad you're all enjoying it. **

**Seriously though, the main arc of this is almost finished, and then I'll continue this as a collection of one-shots. I have more info on all of this on my profile page, so check it out. Thanks in advance, you guys! : )**

**This chapter is ridiculously long, as it should be. It needs proper respect, and it makes up for the weeks between my updates (kind of). Also, I listened to "Dreams On Fire" from the _Slumdog Millionaire_ soundtrack while I was writing the ending of this. It's a pretty song, altough more than a little too sappy, but it seemed to help me finish this up on a positive note. Just in case anyone was wondering what I listen to when I'm working.**

**Obligatory disclaimer: I blame Bioware. **

******!%#$!%#%#^$*%(&*$!%#^#!#)&*%^#%#^$#&%*&)^#%^#%&$^#$%^%*%$!#!^*^&(*^#~#$^&*(^$#&#$($^&%!^$&%^*##!&*$^^&#!*^#~#$^%&^*#%!**

I'm shuffling through the cargo bay to the shuttle in a borrowed suit of armor. I don't know how the hell Garrus goes around wearing this shit all the time—it's really freaking heavy and none too comfortable. Maybe it's a turian thing, or maybe this armor is just too big on me.

"Be careful on the ice, Jeff," EDI says. Oh, damn; I forgot about that. Even with my braces on again for the first time in over a year, I could still end up in a cast from the waist down if I fall. And there's bound to be ice everywhere out there, worse than Noveria because Alchera's uninhabited. It sucks to be me sometimes.

Felicia appears from the elevator in her black and red armor with her breather helmet tucked under her arm like a football, with Garrus, Tali and Dr. Chakwas in tow. Did Tali decide to come with after all? No, she's probably just seeing us off. She's not wearing her new heavy-duty suit.

Dr. Chakwasis rolling a collapsible wheelchair with her. "I thought it would be a good idea to bring this with us, so you don't risk falling out there."

"I'm not _that_ breakable anymore, Doc," I lie, eyeing the chair with contempt. I haven't needed one of those things in years. I'd rather break both my legs than use one now.

"There's no harm in bringing it," Felicia says. "We can leave it in the shuttle and get it if we end up needing it."

I keep glaring at the chair, but don't protest to it coming along for the ride. Dr. Chakwas rolls it into the shuttle and goes about strapping it into place.

Tali pulls me aside, near a heavy ammo container. She wrings her hands. Her eyes look glassy through her visor, her voice hushed. "Please don't forget to bring me something. I'd very much like a keepsake from her."

"I won't forget. Don't worry."

She nods. She makes like she's going to hug me, but decides against it. We go back to the shuttle, where Garrus is volunteering to drive and Felicia is fidgeting with her helmet's seals.

"Ready to go?" I ask.

"As I'll ever be," Felicia mutters, stepping into the shuttle. I follow suit, letting Garrus and Tali have a bit of privacy before we take off.

I kind of feel bad for them, for Tali and Garrus. I might not be his best friend or anything, but Garrus's a nice enough guy and Tali is Tali. It's hard not to like her. Other than Felicia and Gabby, Tali is the only girl I can talk tech with and not feel like a total nerd around. And, Tali's like everyone's kid sister, but with a shotgun and the most badass attack drone ever. Even if Chiktikka is pink, which isn't badass at all.

Tali gets it. She knows what it's like to be pitied and sheltered and fragile and looked down on. She knows what it's like to like someone and not have it work out over and over and over again because of some stupid physical problem that keeps everyone at a literal distance. Granted, I've had it marginally easier than she has, but she has someone to fall asleep with at night. I have EDI.

"Hey," Felicia says. "You okay?"

"Yeah." No. "Why?"

She shrugs. "You looked bummed out."

"I'm nervous," I admit. "I'm not used to the whole running around in armor thing. I'm chafing."

"You'll get used to it," she says, shrugging. It looks funny when she's wearing armor, all bulky and out of proportion. "It's not so bad after a while, you know? Besides, you have a backup option if you get too uncomfortable." She nods in the direction of the wheelchair.

"No I don't," I snap. "I'd rather suffer through a stress fracture than use that thing."

"Is your pride really worth a few broken bones and a few hours in the med bay?"

"Don't argue with him, Commander," Dr. Chakwas says. "He's impossibly stubborn."

"Really? I had no idea." Felicia says, her words dripping with sarcasm. She knows better than anyone how stubborn I can be. I'm almost as bad as she is.

I glower as forcefully as I can at her. She glares at me, only her eyes narrowing in displeasure and the rest of her face blank. We stare at each other for a minute when it occurs to me that it would be really insanely easy to make her laugh right now, so make the dumbest face I can muster. The corner of her mouth twitches, but she doesn't grin or laugh or anything. She's good.

Her face relaxes only slightly, enough hat she's not giving me the stink eye anymore. She leans forward a bit toward me and runs her tongue over her lips in that over-the-top porn star way. I start laughing despite myself. She's _good_.

_**XXXXX**_

I sit back in my seat with a satisfied smirk on my face. Jeff's laughing at me, and it's not his usual laugh, either; it's his nervous one. His ears turn all red like they do when he's embarrassed, and it's really obvious when he's not wearing his hat.

Actually, I had kind of forgotten what he looked like without his hat. The last time I saw him without one was years ago when I took it from him right before I got into the shuttle to the Officer Candidate School on Luna.

_***#*#*#***_

"So," he said. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the window. He watched the shuttle pull up to the dock. I know he was watching it because I was watching it, too.

"So," I said. "I guess this is it."

"Yeah. I guess so." He looked at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He didn't look sad, not really. Just lonely.

"I'll come and see you when I finish basic," I offered.

He nodded, his lips pressed into a fine line. I remember thinking how strange he looked unshaven, because he wasn't aspiring to be all scruffy back then.

I felt terrible for leaving him at the Academy all by himself for another year before he went off to flight school. I knew that I was the only non-relative of his that bothered to spent time with him.

He had told me about his theory—Moreau's Law, he called it—that he didn't exist in the grand scheme of things because he was a loner by nature. I told him I though it was bullshit, but deep down I knew he was right.

"First call for all cadets boarding the 0310 shuttle to the Officer Candidate School on Luna," said an annoyingly articulate VI next to the airlock. The three other cadets I was being shipped off with got up and started saying their goodbyes to their friends and family.

"I'll keep in touch, I promise," I said. I was dangerously close to crying.

The other cadets started boarding the shuttle. It meant that I had to get on soon, so I handed him my prized possession: the ignition switch from my homemade motorcycle.

"No, come on," he said, trying to hand it back to me. "I can't take this, Felicia. Keep it."

"No, I want you to have it."

"Seriously, I can't—"

"Jeff!" I snapped. He jumped at the tone of my voice. "Keep it. I want you to keep it. For old times' sake."

He sighed, but tucked it into his sweatshirt pocket. I fiddled with the end of my ponytail and looked at my feet, trying to think of something to say to him.

"Final boarding call for all cadets boarding the 0310 shuttle to the Officer Candidate School on Luna," the VI chirped.

"You should go, before it leaves without you," he mumbled.

I nodded. We hugged. I hadn't noticed how much taller he was than me; he actually had to stoop a bit to hug me. I stood on tiptoe so I wouldn't choke him. I squeezed him tightly, clutching his sweatshirt and trying to swallow the painful lump in my throat.

We pulled apart when the VI announced that I wasn't aboard yet, and that I had to be in the next two minutes before take off.

"I'll miss you," I told him, backing up to the airlock door.

"I'll miss you, too," he said. I was shocked when he took off his hat and handed it to me. "Here. I know you like this one."

That's when I started crying. I hugged it to my chest and smiled at him before I got into the airlock.

_***#*#*#***_

**_XXXXX_**

Felicia's been staring at me since the shuttle lifted off from the Normandy five minutes ago.

"What?" I ask. "Stop staring at me. You're really creeping me out."

"Wearing a hat all the time for ten years has given you the hat hair from hell," she says, like it's some major revelation or something.

"Fifteen years, actually," I correct her. "I started wearing them when I was fifteen."

"You look weird without one."

"So the porn star face was what, a Freudian slip?"

"A _what_slip?" Garrus asks, turning around in the driver's seat. We're inside Alchera's atmosphere now, circling around and trying to find the _Normandy_'s wreckage through the swirling snow.

Dr. Chakwas explains to him what a Freudian slip is while Felicia turns her attention to the widow. She cups her hands against the glass to cut out some glare from the cabin lights. It's strangely childlike and kind of cute, in a weird lolita sort of way.

"I see her," she whispers after several minutes. She turns around, and I can see the fog of her breath on the window. "I see the SR-1."

I lean over and look out the window. Sure enough, I see the mangled hull of my baby laying half-buried in snow. I suddenly regret coming. It hurts to see the SR-1 like this, worse than any fracture and broken bone I've ever had, worse than every time I had to listen to Felicia talk about her boyfriend, and almost as bad as when I realized that she was dead and gone.

Garrus finds a place to land in the middle of the destruction, next to what I think used to be the Mako. There's a strange, eerie blanket of silence hanging in the air as we put on our helmets and engage our personal heat units.

"Are we ready to go?" Felicia asks quietly. Her voice is loud over the comm receiver near my ear. She gets up and opens the shuttle door, and waves us ahead of her. She's hesitating, trying to hold off on having to step out into the snow.

I want to reach out and hug her or something, just to let her know that everything will be okay, but I can't seem to make my arms move that much, so I settle for putting a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me, and I want to think she's smiling, but I can't see her mouth.

"I'm okay," she says. "This didn't seem like it was going to be so hard a few minutes ago."

"I know. Take your time." I don't tell her that I'm here if she needs me. This emotional stuff is way out of my depth.

She nods and sighs heavily before she steps out onto the ice. She loses her footing for a split second before she regains her balance. I go to follow her when she puts out her hands to me.

"This is a sheet of ice," she explains. "I don't want you to fall."

"I don't need-"

"Would you rather I get the wheelchair?"

"No, but-"

"So let me help you."

I try to ignore the twitch in my chest as I reach out and take her hands. I try to focus on not losing my footing like she did, but it's hard while I'm holding her hands. Even covered in armor, they're really small and dainty and I like the way it feels to be holding them.

Once she's sure I'm not going to fall and break my ass on the ice, she moves next to me and takes my arm the way she would if I were the one escorting her. I can't seem to find my dignity, and I'm sure I had it here a minute ago.

We start walking carefully on the ice, coming up on what was once the Mako. It's still mostly intact, but really banged up, a testament to its resilience. Garrus is staring at it. He puts his hand on one of the broken wheels.

"I didn't think anything could destroy this thing," he mutters. His voice sounds weird and distorted over the comm, more metallic and flangy than it usually is as it's processed, translated, and filtered into my helmet.

Felicia puts her head down and keeps walking us around the crash site. We pass the remnants of the CIC, where Dr. Chakwas is reading a broken datapad. It looks like she's crying.

"What is it, Doctor?" I ask. I don't want to think it's something someone wrote in the moments before they died, but I have a horrible sinking feeling that it is.

She shakes her head and hands it to me as she wanders off to have a minute of privacy. I tilt it so Felicia can read it with me, what little of it is uncorrupted. I hear her sniffle when she finishes reading it. She liked Pressly, like an uncle, she said. He was on one of the first ships that arrived on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz, so she had known him for a while just like she had known me and Anderson before we were all assigned to the SR-1.

I tuck the datapad under my free arm. I think Tali would want this more than some bolt or a coupling. Felicia looks at the bare bones of the galaxy map, trying not to let me see her cry. I can count on one hand how many times I've seen her cry: when she went off to OCS, after she had to leave Kaiden on Virmire, and after she thought Garrus was going to die on Omega, and after the Collectors attacked the SR-2. That's it.

She sniffles again and takes a deep breath before walking us in the direction of what looks like the bridge. I pull my arm out of her grip and attempt to run up the bridge.

"Jeff!" she cries.

I keep going until I'm standing in the cockpit, behind where I used to sit. I stand there for a minute, taking in the exposed wires and the broken console, the torn and broken chair I spent countless hours in. I run my hand over the head rest. God, I miss her. The SR-2 is great and all, but she's just not the same. She isn't my baby.

_***#*#*#***_

"I prefer gold to silver. You know, for my medal?" Felicia appeared next to me, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. "I figured you'd recommend me for once since I pulled your, uh, boots out of the fire."

"If we present you with a medal, you'll end up sitting on a stage listening to politicians make speeches for a couple of hours," she said. "And we both know how much you love dressing up."

I shrugged. "That's a good point. They'd probably make me shave, too. I've spent the last seven weeks working on this baby. No medal's worth that."

I turned in my seat to face her. She was usually too busy playing Commander Shepard to come up the bridge to see me right after a mission. Debriefs to make, reports to be written and filed, crew members to check in on, lockers and the mess hall to restock, turianCouncil members to threaten and other Council members to reason with, missions to plan, engines to maintain, showers to take, meals to eat, coffee to chug, turians to spar with, and catnaps to take. Life, mostly. You know how it is. I do, and I still can't get used to it.

"So why don't you tell me why you're really here, Commander?"

"I missed your pretty face," she said. "Do I need a better reason?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. We don't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

She sighed. "Fine, you win. You mind if I ask you a few questions?"

I don't know what happened, but I snapped. "Oh, I can see where this is going. You did a background check on me, didn't you? I'll tell you the same thing I told the captin: you want me as your pilot. I'm not good, I'm not even great. I'm the best damn helmsman in the Alliance fleet! Top of my class in flight school? I earned that. Those commendations in my file? I earned every single one. Those weren't given to me as charity for my disease."

I knew I corssed a line when her Commander face slipped and Felicia lokked at me with wide, concerned eyes.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. I felt terrible, ashamed even, for getting so defensive over an innocent question. "Are you sick?"

"You mean-you mean you didn't know?" Until then, I had no idea that she hadn't known what was wrong with me. She never asked, and I never said anything. She knew I had trouble getting around and doing certain things on my own, and she helped me, but she didn't know why. "Ah, crap."

I explained to her the specifics of Vrolik's Syndrome. She waited until I stopped talking to say anything.

"You aren't going to break a bone flying the ship, are you?" she asked. She was leaning on the edge of my console, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"I don't fly with my feet, Commander," I told her. She looked down, embarrassed that she even asked. "I'm fine as long as I'm in this chair. I gotta be real careful whenI get up to take a piss, though." She didn't laugh. "I can do my job bas well as anyone else on the ship. Better, actually. So don't worry about it."

She got up and got down on her knees next to me, so our faces were level. I remember thinking that she hadn't changed, still the same soft features and red lipstick, but I had never noticed how blue her eyes were. They looked like the drive core on the engineering deck. I was so distracted by her candy perfume and her eyes I was surprised to feel her arms around me. As quickly as it happened, it was over, and she was gone. And, just as quickly, I wanted her all over again, as badly as I had while we were in the Academy together.

_***#*#*#***_

"Jeff?"

I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear Felicia's voice behind me. She's standing on the bridge, a few feet away from me.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

"It's fine. I just didn't hear you coming. I was-"

"Reminiscing?" she asks. "I could tell."

She closes the gap between us, looking at the cockpit with the same homesick look in her eyes I know mine have. She puts her hand on the back of the chair, inches from mine.

"What were you thinking about?"

"When you came to see me after Therum," I say. "When I told you I have Vrolik's."

She shakes her head. "I forget that you used to be so breakable. You've come a long way, you know? I mean, you can walk around without your braces, save the Normandy all by yourself, handle an assault rifle..."

"EDI helped," I remind her. "I can't take full credit for that one."

"But EDI doesn't have a body," she says softly. Oh shit. "You could've fallen down and broken your leg and been taken away by the Collectors, and we wouldn't be here right now. If the Collectors got you, we couldn't have saved the crew. No one else knows how to pilot a ship. We-_I_ can't do the hero thing without you."

"You told me that this morning." Oh shit.

"I know," she says. She puts her lhand over mine. I make myself look at our hands instead of her eyes. "I just want you to know how important you are. To the mission, to the crew. To me."

Oh shit. I don't know what to do with that. Felicia is Felicia. I'm me. We're friends. Best friends. We've known each other for years and years and I like-like her and she doesn't like like me that way. I'm her constant, and she's mine. I don't know what to do with that.

"Is this the part where we make out?" I hear myself ask before I can stop myself. "I think the helmets will get in the way."

To my surprise, she laughs. A loud, honest to god, happy laugh. "I really set myself up for that one, didn't I?"

"So we don't get to make out?" I try not to let myself look too disappointed.

"Not now," she says. "You're right. It won't be all that easy all suited up anyway."

She adjusts her grip on my hand our fingers lace together. "We'll hammer out the details later, okay?"

I'm afraid I'll say something absolutely retarded if I open my mouth now, so I nod. I can tell she's smiling.

"Come on," she says, pulling me back to the bridge. "Let's find Garrus and Dr. Chakwas and finish up here. I've had enough angst for one day."

Me, too.


	4. The One Where I Finally Get the Girl

**!%#$!%#%#^$*%(&*$!%#^#!#)&*%^#%#^$#&%*&)^#%^#%&$****!%#$!%#%#^$*%(&*$!%#^#!#)&*%^#%#^$#&%*&)^%**

**Greetings and salutations. This is it, the one we've all been waiting for: "_The One Where I Get the Girl (finally)_," aka, the one where the story arc ends. But never fear! ****I'll continue this as a collection of one-shots, as it was originally intended to be. Some of them will go back to the Academy and explore Joker and Felicia's friendship, and others will follow them as a couple. If there's anything you'd like to see me put into the story, I'd love to hear your suggestions, so feel free to post a comment, message me, or get in touch with me on the other websites I have links to on my profile.**

**The song Joker's listening to at the beginning of this chapter is "At the Library" by Green Day. It is delightful and totally appropriate, and ironically named, if you remember that he met Felicia in the Alliance Academy library. ; )**

**And, I was listening to "Maybe" by The Sick Puppies while I was writing the ending. I'm so, so insanely pleased with the way it came out. I hope you all are, too.**

**Obligatory disclaimers: I blame Bioware. And the songs. Together they assume direct control of my brain and make me write fluff. You know you feel this.**

**!%#$!%#%#^$*%(&*$!%#^#!#)&*%^#%#^$#&%*&)^#%^#%&$****!%#$!%#%#^$*%(&*$!%#^#!#)&*%^#%#^$#&%*&)^%**

Felicia turns her old N7 helmet over in her hands. It's pretty banged up, but intact and in mostly decent shape, certainly better shape than anything else that we found at the crash site, the Mako notwithstanding. That thing's damn near indestructible.

"This is going to look nice on my desk once I clean it up," she muses, wiping some grime off the visor.

"You're going to use the helmet you died in as a _paperweight_?" I ask incredulously. it's presence in the shuttle offends me in a way I can't even begin to describe. "That's weird, Commander, no offense."

"You're just jealous she's running her hands all over it instead of you," Garrus says. I can see him smirking to himself in the drivers' seat. Felicia smiles a bit and resumes examining the helmet for more grime to clean off. I feel myself turn pink and glare at Garrus'sreflection on the windshield, wanting very much to kick the back of the drivers' seat. Dr. Chakwas chuckles, her lips twitching into a little smile before she recomposes herself when she realizes I heard her.

"You don't seriously think that we didn't hear you two?" Dr. Chakwas asks me. "We were all on the same comm channel."

Garrus chuckles. "You two sounded like a couple of kids on their first date. Very cute, by the way."

"Says the guy dating the recently-legal quarian," I snap. He doesn't respond, but I think he growls at me. Freak.

"Aw, don't get all huffy, Jeff," Felicia says. "You've had a very trying morning, being away from EDI for a whopping two hours. I'm sure you miss each other terribly."

I frown. "Of course she misses me. She's my mom. She wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't keep tabs on me at all times."

"I keep tabs on all of the Normandy's crew, Jeff," EDI says, her beach-ball-on-a-pedestal visage appearing near the shuttle door. "I'm always watching you." We stare at her for a minute. I can't speak for anyone else, but I'm a little scared. Shaking in my boots.

"That is a joke," she adds, just before she disappears as quickly as she appeared. Felicia sets the helmet aside and smiles at me.

"See? I told you your holoMom was worried about you."

"I have more moms than I need," I groan. I should I ask around to see if anyone wants one. "I'm sure someone else is in need of maternal love."

"Oh, stop whining, Jeff." Dr. Chakwas, another one of my moms, is untangling all the chains from the dog tags we found and putting them into a compartment in her armor. She looks a little down, but happy that we can finally give the old crew's families some closure. "I always liked the Draven sisters. They were sweet girls."

"The twins that worked in the CIC? Tall, blonde hair, brown eyes? I remember them. They were cute." Felicia raises her eyebrow at me. She's wondering if my dedicated bachelorhood has seriously screwed with my idea of how the whole dating shebang is supposed to work. I put my hand over hers and add, "I mean, if you're into traditionally beautiful women like that. Not me. Nope. I like short girls with dark hair and blue eyes. You're my..." I try to think of something nice to say, and settle on really, really lame. "My sunshine?"

She looks unimpressed, but amused. "Nice save."

"I try."

"Mm." She moves her hand so she can put her fingers through mine as we exit Alchera's atmosphere and into space. I just can't get over how small her hands are, how feminine and dainty they feel even through her armor. Actually, she looks curvier in her armor than I've seen her look in anything else for a long time. I wonder why. Is it some weird, girlie armor design? Or a coincidence? Maybe she wears an Aegis vest on purpose.

I sigh, lean my head back, and close my eyes. I'm beat, like, really fucking exhausted. I'm not a get-up-and-go kind of guy (literally), and I spend most of my time sitting down staring at screens or out at the endless abyss of space from the cockpit. It's not that I'm lazy (per se), but I"m kind of sedentary by default. I mean, I _do_ stuff, like keeping in shape and all that, but I'm inactive. It's not like I can help it or anything. I just _seem_ like one of those guys whose lazy as hell and doesn't do shit for himself. Maybe it's my personality, or my hat, or the beard or something... yeah, no. It's totally the beard. _Clearly_. I take no responsibility for that common misconception. It's not my fault I spend fifteen hours a day on my ass doing next to nothing. It isn't. Don't judge me.

Great, I'm defending me to myself. Awesome. I must be more tired than I thought.

_***#*#*#***_

I was alone in my dorm room. I was sitting at my desk, leaning back in my chair with my hands behind my head and my eyes closed, listening to music and thinking. The song was old, like, from the 1990s, by a band I don't remember the name of. Maybe it's related to my copious amounts of free time, but I like old music. The whole synthpop techno dance electronica whatever that everyone listens to is seriously retarded.

I let my mind wander from my upcoming flight school placement assessment, to Felicia, to my parents, to buying a hamster, to Felicia in civvies, to the lyrics of the song

_What is it that drives me mad?_

_Girls like you that I never had_

_What is it about you that I adore?_

to Felicia in my room with me, to Felicia kissing me

_What is it that makes me feel so much pain_

_That makes me go insane?_

_What is it about you that I adore?_

to Felicia out of her civvies—Someone buzzed my room, trying to get inside and effectively crashing my train of thought. I was going to ignore it and try to get the train going again, but the door buzzed again. My comm pinged.

"Jeff!" It was Felicia. Her voice was hushed and hurried, crackling over the comm. "Let me in, quick!"

I got up so quickly I almost busted my knee on the leg of my desk as I rushed to turn off the music. I ran (hobbled) into my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm myself down before I opened the door.

"C'mon, Jeff!" she said, almost begging. "I know you're in there. If you don't let me in I'll hack your door and interrupt whatever it is you're doing!"

I gimped my way over to the door as quickly as I could and opened it as casually as I could. She was biting her thumb and tapping her foot impatiently, her arm crossed tightly across her chest. She gave me a once-over, like the fact I was wearing pants surprised her. She stopped biting her nail and smiled as she stepped around me. She unfolded her arm and pulled a long electric blue tube out of her jacket, put it on the table, and stripped out of the unnecessary outerwear. Her shirt was long sleeved and had a low square-ish neckline, skin tight and brilliant white. Come to think of it, it looked a lot like that cat suit thing Miranda runs around in. Her jeans were tight, too, tucked into a pair of knee-high combat-style black boots. It really suited her, in a way I hadn't been able to imagine. Not really crazy sexy or anything, but sexy in a Felicia way.

"Wow," was all I could think of to say.

"Thanks," she said. I think her cheeks turned the slightest bit pink. "I had no idea you cared about women's clothing."

"I assure you, I care about them very much. Especially on girls I like."

"Oh, you and your ways," she said with a grin, tugging the brim of my hat down over my eyes. I tried to be subtle as I watched her walk away, using the brim of my cap to block her view of my eyes.

She walked over to my desk and pulled two small shot glasses out of nowhere. "Stop looking at my ass, Jeff."

"I wasn't looking at your ass." I rubbed the back of my neck and tried not to dwell on the fact that she caught me checking her out.

"Please," she quipped. "You aren't nearly as subtle as you think, Mr. Moreau."

"No, really," I bleated lamely. "I was looking at your, uh, boots? They're, um, nice?"

"Thank you. Nice save, by the way."

"I try. So, what's the occassion?"

"Ken, Gabby, and Gennifer took me out to celebrate," she explained, filling the two glasses with electric blue alcohol. "I wanted to come by earlier to tell you, but they dragged me out right after I was told. I kept trying to leave, but they wouldn't let me. I had to lie and say Commander Anderson wanted to see me about my test scores."

"You got your OCS preliminary results?"

"Uh-huh."

"And?"

She turned to face me, her eyes sparkling. "I'm going off to OCS at the end of the semester. They want me to make lieutenant before they have me go for N7."

I stared at her. She was glowing, bouncing on her heels in excitement. She made a funny little squealing sound, which meant she was waiting for me to react. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I held my arms out for a congratulatory hug.

She squealed like a little girl and threw herself at me, driving me back against the door. She hugged me so tightly she almost broke my ribs, her body pressed flush against mine, her head tucked under my chin. I could smell her perfume so strongly it made my head spin. She smelled like grape bubblegum. Her hair tickled. I had to fight the urge to give her a full-on return hug of equal enthusiasm (and I was enthusiastic, believe you me), and settled for giving her a quick squeeze and a pat on the back.

"Where'd you get the... blue stuff?" I asked. I figured it was liquor of some sort, but I had no idea what kind. I was only nineteen and relatively sheltered until that point, so I had nothing to go on.

"What, this?" she asked, tilting the bottle back and forth. "It's Serrice ice brandy. Ken gave it to me as a gift. Thoughtful, right?"

She stepped back and skipped back to the coffee table where she'd put her stuff. She brought liquor into my dorm room, which could've gotten us both expelled if we were caught. I was half horrified and half impressed.

"You have any music or vids or something?" she asked as she filled the shot glasses. "I need to relax or something. I'm all wound up."

"Just old stuff," I admitted. I had old movies and TV series from the 21st, a few stragglers from earlier. "Did you ever see _District 9_?"

"I love that movie!" she said. She handed me one of the shot glasses and sat down next to me on my couch. "I haven't seen it in forever. You have it? Can we watch it?"

"Sure."

I pulled up the holoprojector over my extranet term and opened the data file that contained the movie. It was halfway through the opening credits when Felicia turned to me with an evil grin on her face.

"What?" I asked warily.

"Doesn't Wikus drop the f-bomb every other word in this movie?"

"Yeah, why?"

Her grin broadened. "Let's make it a drinking game. Every time he says 'fuck,' we take a drink," she said slowly, like she was talking to a little kid about not taking candy from strangers. "Let's use up the whole bottle of brandy so I don't have to bring it back to my dorm with me in the morning."

"In the morning, Fel?"

"I'm not wandering across the quad in the middle of the night drunk off my face. Come on, it'll be fun." She looked expectantly at me, and then her whole expression changed. "Oh. You've never—you've never been drunk before, right?"

I didn't say anything, which, in retrospect, made me look guilty.

"Fine, you drink first," she said.

"What?"

"You go first. It's my job as your responsible older friend to get you drunk for the first time."

"Is there a rule saying that, or are you trying to take advantage of me?"

She looked me dead in the eye and said, "Oh, yes, Jeff. I'm going to use alcohol to lower your inhibitions so I can molest you."

She said it so seriously I felt a little threatened and (way) more than a little turned on. I involuntarily started to wonder how my night was going to go. I came up with three different scenarios, all of which I've thought about many times since: one involved the couch, one my bed, and the other the coffee table, and all of them with her on top of me and gloriously naked.

Just when I thought my brain was going to explode and start leaking out of my ears, she corrected herself.

"I mean, I'm only trying to get you drunk. I have no intention to rape you. I clearly have no ulterior motives." She added a very fake, very theatrical cough for good measure. The effect was good, but my mind took a solid ten seconds to compute that she was being funny. I was suddenly very grateful that the room was too dark for her to make me out too clearly. My face became almost unbearably hot, so much so I wondered how my skin was keeping all that blood under the surface and why it hadn't started leaking all over me.

To be frank, I kind of resented her for that one. That was just plain cruel.

**_*#*#*#*_**

"Okay, guys," Felicia says as the shuttle settles back into the cargo hold. "I want you all to go get comfortable and take the rest of the day off. I know working is the farthest thing from my mind right now."

"Shepard, I-"

"Save it, Garrus. Your calibrations can wait until tomorrow. If I catch you working today, I'll have you take over Gardner's janitorial duties for a week."

"Yes, Commander."

"Dr. Chakwas, you have my permission to share your new bottle of Serrice ice brandy with Mr. Gardner."

"Thank you, Shepard," says the good doctor. She smiles gratefully as she starts preparing the wheelchair for deboarding.

Felicia squeezes my hand as she releases it. "You, Joker, are barred from piloting the Normandy today. I don't even want you looking at the cockpit, understood?

"Aye aye, Commander."

Garrus and Dr. Chakwas deboard and go aboutgetting themselves settled back in. I go to get up, but Felicia stops me.

"Come up to my cabin later, okay?" she says softly. "We'll figure everything out then."

I squeeze her hand. "Sure. I have nothing better to do today anyway."

She laughs and gets out of the shuttle, cradling both helmets in her arms awkwardly as she heads for the elevator.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Right behind you."

I follow her in and lean back against the cool metal wall. She hums quietly to herself. It's nice, just being with her and not talking, but feeling comfortable with it all the same. The elevator stops in the CIC, where I get off and head straight for the armory.

I take my time removing the armor, mostly because it's heavy, but also because it's not mine and I don't want to know what Ken From Engineering will do to me if I scuff his brand new suit of armor. I don't know why he bothered sinking all those creds into it in the first place, because it's not like he needs it. I'm assuming that he got it because the thinks armor is a chick magnet. Whatever. The guy's delusional.

I'm back in my own clothes, not my uniform, and comfortable enough to go up to the loft and hash out how Felicia and I are going to take the Big Step. Since I don't usually go ashore, I don't have much in the way of civs lying around in my footlocker, but it feels insanely good to be wearing jeans and a teeshirt instead of a starchy uniform for a change. And sneakers. I forgot how much I love sneakers. I limp back into the CIC, where I'm grateful Kelly hasn't appeared yet, and get into the elevator.

It's weird to push the button for the captin's quarters. It feels so taboo and illicit. I allow myself to get a little thrill out of it, but the thrill ends as the door opens and I'm face-to-face with Felicia's door.

Oh, shit. Here goes nothing.

I open her door. I don't see her, but I see a display case full of model ships. Model ships, Felicia, still? She's collected those things for as long as I can remember. Tali says it's like Felicia has a little Migrant Fleet of her own, and she's right. Felicia's been collecting since she was a kid, so she has near on a hundred different models now. It's actually really cute. I love it, because I'm the same way.

"Jeff?" Felicia appears behind the display case, her head popping up between a turian cruiser and the flotilla. "Hey. Come on in."

I take a deep breath and walk past her fish tank. It's empty. There's a hamster cage on a shelf behind her desk, next to what I think is her bathroom door. I step down into the living area, and I'm surprised to see a leather couch and a coffee table with wine glasses on it.

"How swank," I muse.

"I know, right? Come on, sit down."

She scoots into the corner of the couch. She's wearing the tight white shirt and the tight jeans again, but her feet are bare this time. Her toenails are bright red, like her lipstick. She tucks one leg underneath her in a way that's almost childish, but mature at the same time. It's cute.

"Hi," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Hey," I say, chuckling nervously.

She shrugs her shoulders up, sitting on her hands. "I think I know how we should approach this, but I need to ask you something first. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Shoot."

She purses her lips and looks at her toes.

"Whatever happened to us?"

"You know what happened," I say automatically. I really, really don't want to go there right now. Not exacly a happy chapter in the Life of Joker. I'd very much like to not revisit that while Felicia and I are trying to figure things out again.

She looks at her red toenails and brings her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I handled that so badly, hurt you so badly. I should have told you-"

"Told me you got back together with your boyfriend?"

"Yeah," she says, almost too quietly to hear.

"We weren't really dating, Felicia. We were just screwing around." I don't tell her that I honestly thought we were dating, at least at the time. I was young, much more naive than I care to admit, much more fragile than I am now, and almost as socially handicapped as I was physically. It was a big deal for me to let anyone in back then (it still is), but Felicia was the first. I trusted her with my secrets, my aspirations, and my body. It sounds really stupid when I put it like that, but that's how it was, and it hurt like hell when I found out she went back to That Asshole.

"I still should've told you about Kiernan before you saw us back together. You must've hated me." I did hate her for it, resented her, thought terrible things about her that I still feel guilty for thinking, but I never stopped loving her. I don't tell her any of that. She doesn't need to know. All she needs to know is that I forgave her when I gave her my favorite hat. She doesn't need to know that I handled way worse than I let on. There's no reason to tell her how I really reacted to it.

"It just feels right to apologize, you know?" she continues. "I don't feel right trying to pick up from where we left off without apologizing to you."

"Apology accepted." I sigh internally. Crisis averted. Now on to something completely different, for my sake. "Where did we leave off, exactly?" I ask, smiling despite myself. "Do you remember?"

"I think I asked you," she says, grinning. It's amazing how I can just lighten the mood like that. I am a truly gifted human being. I amaze myself sometimes. "But, yeah, I remember. We were in your dorm, fooling around, and you got a comm message."

"I was going to ignore it."

"But I wouldn't let you because the beeping was driving me crazy. I said I would leave if you didn't answer it."

"Which I was in no fit state to do," I remind her. She giggles. "But I did, and it was my dad. He told me Mom died."

She nods, smiling sadly. "I brought you to the Academy spaceport and put you on the first flight to Arcturus. The next time I saw you was when you saw me off to the OCS shuttle." She looks up and smiles. "I gave you the ignition switch from my motorcycle."

"I gave you my vintage Yankees hat. You cried."

"Shut up! So did you."

"I did not!" I laugh.

"You so did," she giggles. "You were trying to be all manly and unflinching, but you were glassy-eyed and sniffling, too. You know you can't bullshit me."

I'm too proud to admit that she's right, so I settle for sticking my tongue out at her like a little kid.

"I still had that hat back in the SR-1 days," she says, laughing. "I didn't have it on the ship, though. It was in my apartment, hanging on the corner of my vanity table."

"You remember where you had my hat three years ago?" I ask incredulously.

"It only feels like months to me, remember? When we docked on the Citadel to see Anderson after we recruited Zaeed, Garrus and Mordin? He gave me the key to the storage locker where my mom put all my stuff. I have all my old shit up here. Your hat's over there." She points over my head, toward where her hamster cage is. I turn around and look through her display case and see it, perched on top of a row of antique books. It's still in pretty good shape, considering how old and worn it is.

"I wear it sometimes, you know," she says after a few quiet seconds pass.

I turn back to her. "What?"

"I wear your hat sometimes," she elaborates. "When I'm cleaning, when I'm working on mission reports and boring stuff like that. It helps me focus."

"My hat helps you focus?" I ask incredulously.

"You, for all your smartassery and slackerly ways, Jeff, are incredibly focussed. I like to think some of that focus rubs off on me when I wear it."

I love how she thinks of me when she wears it. I love the way she smiles when she says it. I love how she's scooting closer to me as she says it.

"Your ignition thing is in my locker," I tell her. "After you, you know, died, I carried it around for a while. It made me feel better. I had it on me when TIM recruited me, actually. He thought I was crazy."

"Maybe you are?"

"That's a given, Felicia. You know that well enough by now."

"That I do," she admits. "If I remember correctly, I owe you a kiss, right?"

"That's also a given."

She smiles crookedly and touches my face with her fingertips, her eyes flickering between my lips and my eyes. She bites her lip, the scar disappears between her teeth. She's hesitatiing. So am I. This is going to change everything and a whole mess of other things I don't want to think about yet. Life before the Reapers come. Life after the Reapers come. Sex. Moving in together. Getting a pet together. Getting engaged. Marriage. Kids. There are too many possibilites. There are too many chances for everything to go wrong if I kiss her. There are too many ways for everyhting to go right if she kisses me.

So we meet each other in the middle.

And, honestly?

Nothing changes.

She's still her, and I'm still me.

Suddenly all those "maybes" aren't as scary as I thought they were going to be.


	5. The One Without Any Shoker

"Did you hear about the commander and Joker?" Zaeed asks as he lights up a new cigar.

"What about 'em?" Jack asks absently. Her brow furrows as she brushes graphite off her notebook. She's trying to draw Jessie in perfect detail. The less corrections she makes, the less chance she messes up the design and ruins the stencil for Zaeed's new tattoo. It has to be perfect, or pretty damn close, because the old man will throw a bitch fit if she doesn't draw the shitty old rifle just right.

"Scuttlebutt says they're banging each other."

"Yeah, right," Jack scoffs. "Joker can't bang. It would kill him. Don't be stupid. Last I heard, Shepard was banging the turian, but now he's with the quarian. Guy gets around."

Zaeed snorts. Smoke unfurls out his nostrils in a dignified, dragon-like way. "What the hell would you know? You spend all your time on the sub deck, brooding and not talking to anyone."

"Just cuz I don't talk doesn't mean I don't listen, dumbass. I hear things. Those two in engineering gossip almost as bad as Shepard's secretary."

"See those screens over there?" Zaeed asks, nodding in the direction of the security monitors. "You watch them long enough, you see everything everyone does on this ship."

Jack purses her lips. "Dirty old man."

"There's a camera in the cockpit," he continues, ignoring her. "You don't know how many times I've seen the kid turn around and watch Shepard leave. And she bloody sashays because she knows he looks."

At this, Jack's head snaps up, intrigued, and disbelieving. "Shepard sashays?"

"Like Miranda."

"You're lying, Massani."

"Don't believe me? Go watch the screen for camera 2-1. It's after 1800, so Shepard should be up there in a little while."

Jack slides off Zaeed's table and sets her notebook aside, moving over to the security monitors. She pulls up the full screen of the cockpit camera.

"Shepard's already there," she says.

"She's early today?" Zaeed asks, joining Jack at the monitors. "That's unusual. She usually waits until the skeleton crew takes over."

"I'm not one to judge, but it's pretty creepy you know her schedule. Stalker."

He chuckles and drags on his cigar. There's no audio to go with the visuals, so there's no way of knowing what the alleged couple is talking about. Shepard grins and covers her mouth, giggling at something Joker said and tugs the brim of his cap down over his eyes. He bats her hand away indignantly and adjusts the hat, glaring at her for a minute before he pokes her in the side. She jumps and hops over the station divider and out of his reach and out of the camera's line of sight.

"What are they, twelve?" Jack asks. Suddenly, she respects her CO a little less. She silently curses that she now knows the big goddamn hero Commander Shepard is ticklish.

Shepard comes back into view, holding her hands up in defeat. She says something, Joker shrugs. She puts one hand on her hip and the other on the back of his chair as he speaks. She nods and pats his shoulder, stepping away from him and-yeah, Zaeed was right-shashaying back down the bridge to the CIC, and Joker does watch her leave.

"I told you," Zaeed states victoriously.

"Yeah, whatever," Jack says, returning to the table and resuming her sketching. "I have fifty creds that say Shepard breaks him in half and puts him in the infirmary for a month the first time they have sex."

"And I have a hundred that say she kills him," Zaeed says.

"Prepare to lose, old man," Jack says, allowing herself a tiny smirk.

_**&$%^#**_

"I can't believe this. It's so unprofessional. They're adults, not horny teenagers. They should at least behave as such."

"Aw, you're such a sore loser, Miranda," Kelly says. "You're just mad that you and Jacob aren't the hottest couple on the _Normandy_ anymore."

Miranda stops pacing and folds herself elegantly onto the couch, her lovely engineered mouth pouting. She leans forward, her elbows on her knees, and rubs her temples. She's a perfect picture of exasperation and defeat, her injured pride thick in the air around her, almost as thick as her hair, and as tangible.

"If it's any consolation, the whole engineering incident still takes the cake," Kasumi adds helpfully.

Miranda glowers at her from beneath her eyelashes. "There was no 'incident' in engineering."

"Oh, please!" Kelly laughs. "Zaeed's security footage doesn't lie, Miranda."

Kasumi nods. "Totally hot, by the way. You're a lucky lady."

Miranda groans and leans back against the couch. "When exactly did this become about me?"

"When you accused Shepard and Joker of behaving like unprofessional horny teenagers," Kasumi answers. She smirks as she sips her hot pink cocktail, watching Miranda's cheeks flush a lovely shade of purple indignation. It's a very nice color on her.

"I can't get over how much less snarky they both are now," Kelly muses. "It's a pleasent enough change, but now poor EDI's all sulky."

"The AI is sulking?" Miranda asks. Her tone is disbelieving. "Her personality is really growing now that she's unshackled. Shouldn't we be concerned?"

Kasumi waves her gloved hand dismissively. "Not until she starts crying uncontrollably and without provocation, and develops a severe addiction to ice cream and bad romantic dramas. Then we should be concerned."

Miranda chuckles despite herself. "I suppose. Poor her, always seeing everything that goes on. It can't be fun right now if she's pining."

"I only hope they keep their unprofessional horny teenager business out of the cockpit," Kelly says, shuddering delicately. "I work, like, right there, and I have a clear view of everything that goes on up the bridge. I so don't need to see that."

Kasumi and Miranda exchange a look that, even to the casual outside observer, conveys pity for the plights of EDI and Kelly Chambers.

_**&$%^#**_

"I knew it."

"Did you?" he asks without looking up.

"Yes, I did."

Garrus doesn't need eyebrows to convey disbelief effectively. "Did you _really_?"

"Yes, Garrus, I really did," Tali says, her chest swelling with pride. "It was obvious."

"Was it?" he asks, only half listening as he calibrated the Thannix cannon for the 2347th time since he was recruited. It doesn't even need the work done at this point and hasn't in months, but it makes him look busy and keeps everyone from annoying him when he's trying to read or sleep or otherwise slack off. He keeps the fact that he's lazy very well hidden. "I never noticed."

"Because you didn't know what to look for. Humans and quarians have similar social behaviors, or so we're told before Pilgrimage. With us, it's all about body language because of our suits, and humans are generally physically expressive. It's their primate roots or something, like they're just expressive by nature or something. You've worked with enough of them to know that."

"I suppose. I never paid much attention."

"Like right now?" she asks. Her tone is disarmingly innocent.

"Yeah, like-" He lets his words die on his tongue and dares to look in Tali's direction. She's crossing her arms and leaning back on her heels, left hip cocked and her head tilting in the same direction. She's mad. He doesn't need to see her face to know she's mad. "Sorry. I was distracted. I'm listening now, really. Keep going."

"Mm," she grunts. "I was saying that I noticed back on the SR-1, right after Therum. She came down to cheer me up because I was feeling homesick, and she seemed a little quiet and distracted herself. I asked her waht was wrong, and she told me that she'd known Joker for years and didn't know about his condition, and it upset her. It was cute to see her acting like a woman for once instead of the great Commander Shepard."

"Commander Shepard is a woman?" Garrus asks sarcastically. "I had no idea."

He can't see if she's smiling or not, but her posture relaxes. She gives his arm a light shove.

"You think you're so funny," she says. "You think you're so witty and charming. I'll have you know that you're nothing of the sort, Mister Vakarian."

"Well, I don't know about that," he says, shrugging. "You seem pretty taken by my wit and charm most of the time, Miss Vas Normandy."

"_Bosh'tet_," she giggles.

_**&$%^#**_

Grunt watched the security footage like it was the most fascinating thing in the galaxy. "So, this 'sashay' thing, is it some human mating rite or something?"

"In a sense," Dr. Solus says. "Humans engage in specific social behaviors to attract mates. Very social process, largely affected by pheromones and subconcious body language. Observe Miranda and Jacob for best example. Physical displays not as clear with Shepard and Joker."

"They don't fight it out?" Grunt asks. "Pathetic weaklings."

"Human culture prizes emotion over violence. More prone to injury than krogan."

"How are you going to hold on to your mate if you don't make the request and stake your claim to them if you don't fight?"

Dr. Solus shrugs. "Humans exchange vows of fidelity and token jewelry. Salarians negotiate reproduction pacts. Asari meld. Krogan make mating requests and fight. All sentient species different."

Grunt scoffs. "Bah. You aliens are all strange."

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Is it kind of wrong that this was the chapter I was looking forward to the most? Yeah? Oh. My bad. Seriously, though, I had the most fun writing this one, more than any of the other chapters. It was nice to experiece life outside of Joker's awesomeness.

I didn't do the entire crew on purpose. They'll get theirs later. Just you wait and see.

In any case, I'm still so flattered by all of the hits, views, visitors, favorites, alerts, and comments I still receive. I seriously couldn't/wouldn't do this without all of you. Thanks so, so much, from the bottom of my heart for your continued support and love! I'm still taking requests for later one-shots, so please feel free to give me suggestions. All of my contact information is on my profile.

I promise Shoker will be back next week, starring in their first one-shot. Are you excited? I'm excited. Seriously. NEXT WEEK. I promise. Feel free to spam my inbox with hate mail and threats if I don't.


	6. The One Where Felicia Yells At Me

_**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**_

**_Constellations_ is a week shy of being two months old. I first posted this on May 12, and it's had almost 2000 hits in the first two months this has been up. Wow! That's a new record for anything I've ever written and posted online. Thanks to everyone, because I couldn't and wouldn't do it without you guys. I know I sound like a broken record, but it's true.**

**An extra-special thanks to the awesome skywalker05, who has been my most loyal reviewer and has been reading since the first few days _Constellations_ has been online. Thanks so much! You know you're appreciated. Check out her work if you haven't already, else I stop updating for a month. You've been warned! **

**Obligatory disclaimer: I blame Bioware.**

_**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**__**&$%^#**_

I walk up the gantry, whistling an old song I don't remember the lyrics to, in a better mood than I've been in in days. That can happen when my womanhood stops rearing its ugly, bloody head every month. I feel lighter, happier, and cramp free. I have every right to be in a good mood.

"I love that song," Jeff says. He doesn't turn around as he punches in the coordinates for the closest mass relay. "Ol' Beggar's Bush, right?"

"Why am I not surprised you know Flogging Molly?" I ask as I lean on the back of his seat. "Leave it to you to be the only other person on this ship who knows about an Irish band from the twentieth century."

"I blame copius amounts of free time," he says, shrugging. "So, why the whistling?"

"I'm having a supremely good day," I say. "I was just talking to Mordin-"

"Talking to Mordin is a supremely good day for you? Wow. Men and women really are different."

I give him a light smack upside the head. "Shut up. I went to ask him something about upgrading the medbay again, so maybe we don't have to lock it down when Tali needs to repair her suit, like turning one of the beds into a little clean room for her, when he told me something I think you'll like."

"And what might that be?" he asks, trying not to sound too interested.

"He thinks he's found a cure for Vrolik's," I tell him.

He perks up, but keeps playing like he's indifferent. He's not letting his hopes get too high, lest he be disappointed. Jeff would never admit it, but he's always waiting to hear of some medical breakthrough that will cure Vrolik's, but he won't let himself get hung up on it for fear of jinxing it. He's an incurable pessimist, and he and Garrus are very alike in that capacity. I don't understand why they don't try harder to hang out. They'd be best friends.

"What does the good doctor think he can do?"

"Why don't you go ask him?" I say. "Something tells me he wants to talk to you about it directly. From what I gather, it entails a good amount of pain and recovery time, and without the distinct possibility of liver failure like his last 'cure.'"

"He's sure he won't destroy my liver this time?" he asks, his eyes round and serious. "I'd really rather keep it in working order, but that's just me. I don't want someone else's. I like mine."

"From what I gather, you're liver need not worry," I tell him. I squeeze his shoulders around the back of his seat, grinning. "Thank god I won't be subjected to you being yellow. It doesn't look good on you, and I don't happen to be one of those women who find jaundice attractive."

"Oh, well, crisis averted," he chuckles as he kicks his footrest down and stands up. "EDI, take the helm for a while."

"Logging you out, Jeff," she says. She blinks quietly for a minute. "Dr. Solus's research into your condition is sound, and there is an eighty-five percent probability that the treatment will take."

"Eighty-five percent is good," I say hopefully. Jeff shrugs.

"'Treatment' doesn't mean a cure," he says. "It's just a better way of managing the problem, and 'probability' isn't a guarantee. It's just a good chance."

There he is, my pessimist. Would it kill him to be a little hopeful for once? Probably. Forget I asked. He goes off to the lab without another word. He trips, and I go to help him, but he regains his balance and keeps going.

"I'm fine," he says. "Don't bother."

"I don't know why I do sometimes," I mutter, sinking into his seat. "Is he ever that negative with you, EDI?"

"At times," EDI admits. "I find it helps to focus on his more positive qualities when he does, however few they may be."

"I hear that," I sigh. "It's not always easy, though. He's a royal pain in the ass most of the time, but I love him anyway. I won't let him and his angst ruin my day, EDI. I refuse to let it happen."

"A very good mindset, Shepard," she says, blinking approvingly. "You have quite the talent for consciously controlling your feelings."

I smile. "I wouldn't get anywhere if I didn't. It comes in handy most of the time, you know? It helped me get through school and N7 training, it helped me on Elysium, and has never once let me down in my military career. Not even when I died. I made myself focus on the fact that I saved Jeff's life instead of dwelling on the vacuum that was killing me."

"You are remarkable, Shepard. My databases tell me that you are exceptionally self-aware and selfless for a woman of your age. Most women succumb to 'baby fever,' in their early thirties."

"Nope, no baby fever for me," I say a little, I admit, proudly. "There is no place for a screaming infant in my life. I could, however, go for a dog up in the loft. I think the wagging tail and slobbering on my shoes is what I'm missing in my life."

She doesn't say anything, but I have the distinct feeling that EDI's laughing at me.

_***#*#*#***_

"So, what's up, doc?"

Mordin looks up from his microscope, his freaky frog eyes blinking. "Joker. Good to see you. Been meaning to talk to you."

"Uh, yeah, Feli-" I stop myself. I'm not supposed to call her Felicia around other people. It ruins the whole invincable Commander Shepard illusion thing. Whatever. "Shepard mentioned it."

"Calling her by name?" he asks. "Not surprising. Dating, as it were. No need to be secretive. Whole ship knows."

"What? How?"

"Irrelevant," he says, waving his hand dismissively. Fine. I'll let it go for now, but I'm demanding answers from EDI later. "Here to discuss possible cure for Vrolik's, yes?"

"EDI said it was a treatment," I say as I walk over to his table. "It's a cure?"

He shrugs his tiny, slouchy shoulders. "Perhaps. May begin as treatment, mature into cure. Impossible to tell at present. Requires test subjects, data collection, credits, credits, credits. Costly business, science." No shit. Science seems to cost many a pretty penny nowadays. Not that I'm complaining or anything; modern medical science is the only reason I'm where I am now.

The creepy mad scientist's lab around me has me on edge. For someone who spends so much time in medbays and labs like this, I can't be comfortable in them. It's partially the sterile antiseptic smell of medigel, partially the too-bright lighting on the too-clean and too-white surfaces, and partially the numerous and painful memories I have of these places. If it isn't fractured hips and knees from trying to stand when it's a seriosuly bad idea to, it's shin splints or heel spurs from standing, or broken toes because I put my boots on too quickly, or about a million other stupid leg-related injuries I've had in all thirty-one years of my life.

"Was reading on extranet about Earth's astronaughts in late 20th century losing bone density," Mordin is saying. I spaced put for a minute there. I shake myself back into attention. "Bones became fragile, like Vrolik's, caused by radiation damage from space travel. Research into bone grafts began, looking for ways to reverse damage. Early R and D promising, and initial grafts effective, but not cost-effective. Program shut down after initial trials became too costly to research further. Findings recently rereleased to public, looking for new funding to reopen as a treatment for Vrolik's."

"How does it work?"

"Erring on side of caution?" he asks, grinning. It's kind of creepy because he doesn't really have any lips. "Past experience defers to wariness. Process surgical, very painful. Uses coral to rebuild bone and small electrical implant to speed growth. Coral mimics bone structure, fills in holes and replicates to rebuild bone density. Out-patient procedure. Time tells if grafts are taking, if procedure was successful."

I frown. It sounds like something out of a bad 21st century medical drama. I don't like the idea of volunteering for pain, even if it means being able to walk like a normal person instead of gimping around all the time. I've dealt with enough pain to last most other people's lifetimes.

He's staring at me, waiting for me to agree to be his guinea pig or tell him to go to hell. Behind us, the door opens. Felicia comes in, all light footsteps and grape bubblegum perfume and red lipstick. God, I love that lipstick.

"Hey, uh, Joker?" she says. "Tali needs to see you down in engineering for a sec. She says one of the engine drives is running a little hot." It's a bald-faced lie, but Mordin doesn't seem to notice. He ushers both of us out of the lab and into the hallway, already saying that he'll do more research and give me some time to think it over. As the door closes behind us, Felicia smiles.

"Yes, I was eavesdropping courtesy of EDI," she says. "I thought you could use a rescue. You don't mind, right?"

I shrug. "Not really. He was scaring me a little bit with all the coral stuff. I'm not sure I want a sea creature replacing my fragile bones."

"But they're such pretty sea creatures," she says, laughing.

"It's not like I'd ever be able to see them," I tell her. "They'd be under my skin. I'd end up having a candy-colored skeleton, though, so that's a plus."

She laughs and takes my hands in hers. "But you'll think about it, right? I mean, you should. For your own sake, you know? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to get up and take a piss without worrying about breaking your leg on the way?"

"Wasn't it you who said I'm not that breakable anymore?" I ask. She shrugs. "You were surprised and thoroughly impressed by my newfound sturdyness yesterday."

Her cheeks turn pink. It's kind of stupid, but there's a sick sort of pleasure I get from being able to make her embarassed. She cries when she's mortified, but she turns the brightest pink you can imagine when she's embarrassed. It's the funniest, cutest, dumbest thing I've evern seen. I love it.

"I-well, I-uh," she stammers, "If-if you didn't have to worry about your legs, you'd be happier, right? That's what I what for you."

"I'm happy already," I admit. "I'm not even sure if I'll do it, but I'll think about the coral thing, okay? In any case, I think I deserve comfort sex because I've had a very trying morning. I've totally earned it." Her face gets pinker, her eyes darting to the armory door behind me as if she's afraid Jacob will come waltzing through and see us. She snatches my hat off my head and proceeds to hit me with it.

"You ass!" she cries, her eyes getting the tiniest bit glassy. "It's not even midday and you're already horny! Go-go fly my ship or check the engines or watch your porn or something!"

I grab my hat away from her and hold it up and out of her reach. She jumps for it twice before she gives up and glares at me like she'd like nothing more than to kick my shin before she stomps away through the armory. Jacob watches her go by and looks at me.

"She's pissed," he says.

"I know."

"What did you do?"

"Hell if I know," I admit. Seriously, all I did was ask for sex. Since when's that a crime?

Jacob nods. "I hear that."

What can I say? The man gets it.


End file.
